Losing Nuka (Litmus Book 1) (16 page)

I glance at him before looking back to the road. “He’s joining the police force and going to work for my adoptive mother.”

“I know.”

“I could never tell him about Litmus.”

“Meaning you’d have to lie to him every day.”

“Yup. And I can’t do it. I can’t tell him how I feel because it’ll never work.”

“I’m sorry, Nuke.”

I shrug, trying not to burst into tears again. “I am kinda pissed that you pointed out how I feel about him, though. Thanks for that.” I try to make it sound like I’m joking, but I don’t think I pull it off.

“Hey, turn left up here,” he says.

I do as he says, even though I’m confused as to what we’re doing. “Why?”

“We’re right near the headland on the coast. We can climb it and look out over the city.”

“Climbing doesn’t sound fun right now.”

He rolls his eyes. “It’s not actual climbing. There’s a path and everything. And if I can do it with my headache, you can do it with your bruising.”

We park the car and as we get out, he comes over, wrapping his arm around my shoulder.

“Why are we here?” I ask, as we start walking to the main entrance and up the small incline that leads to the top.

“Dunno. A break from training, a break from Litmus. A break from everything that’s running through your head right now. It just seemed like a good idea.”

“A break sounds good.”

We spend the rest of the walk in silence, but he never once lets go of me. When we finally reach the top of the small headland, I’m breathless and sweaty. Letting go of Brett, I take a seat on rough benches carved out of the boulders that surround the pathways.

The ocean below us makes crashing sounds as waves hit the rocks. In the distance, the city lights dance. The air smells of salt and the breeze whips at my hair.

“It’s so beautiful out here,” I say, stating the obvious.

Brett sits next to me. “I used to run here when I was at uni. It was a great escape from everything.”

“Thank you for bringing me here,” I say, looking into his eyes. He holds my gaze as I put my hand around his neck and bring his head down to mine, kissing him gently.

He’s apprehensive at first but slowly gives into it, wrapping his arms around me and holding me tighter. But then he pulls away abruptly.

“We can’t,” he says, not looking me in the eye.

I nod once, removing my arms from around him.

“Just because you’ve decided you don’t want to be with Declan, that doesn’t mean you don’t love him. It doesn’t mean I won’t always be a consolation prize. You proved that tonight the minute you found out he was single. To be fair, that’s how I thought you’d respond, but … I guess there was a small part of me hoping you wouldn’t.”

“What I realised tonight, after we left Declan’s and you were asleep in the car, is that even if Declan wasn’t joining the police force, my new life is so different to what it was a month ago. Even if we could get around the confidentiality, he wouldn’t understand. If I hadn’t just joined Litmus, I think things would be different. But I chose this, and he’s chosen his path. And even though I’ve only just realised my true feelings for him, it friggin’ hurts knowing that I have to forget about it … about him. I’m not just losing a possible future with him, I’m losing our entire friendship.”

“You need to focus on getting over him, and I don’t want to be some rebound. Not with you. If you ever look at me the way you look at him … hell, even the way your face lights up when you talk about him, Cade will probably fire me. Or have me buried. But just so you know …” He leans in closer and whispers, “I’d welcome the punishment.”

My face warms, and I try to conceal it with a cough. “Why do you think Cade would object to us being together anyway?”

He shrugs. “My best guess is she didn’t like seeing Sasha get hurt by Flynn and doesn’t want to have to see that again. Sasha was in a pretty bad way when he dumped her not long after they’d gotten together. You should’ve seen the way she was with him.” He shakes his head. “Poor naïve girl didn’t see it coming. And she kind of hasn’t settled down since. She doesn’t let herself get feelings for any of them now.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t believe you about him.”

“You didn’t?”

“I thought you were just being jealous.”

“That might’ve had something to do with it,” he admits.

“And I’m also sorry I kissed you just now. It was unfair of me to use you as a distraction. It just seemed like a good idea,” I say, smirking as I recycle what he just said about coming up here. “We’re going to be okay, yeah? You and me? All of this making out isn’t going to make things weirder is it? By my count, you’ve kissed me three times now, and I’ve kissed you once. So technically, you’re still two up on me. Any awkwardness is your fault.”

He half-smiles. “We’re all good,” he says, nudging me with his elbow.

“Holy crap, did we just become … you know … friends?”

He winces. “Ugh. I think so.”

-12-

THE DEAKIN IMAGE

My left side is extra tender this morning. Any kind of movement and I’m wincing in pain. Yet here I am, in another pair of tights, a sports bra, and baggy T-shirt, heading for the training room.

“Where you off to?” Brett’s voice calls from behind me as I make my way down the hall.

“Uh … training?”

“You’re dedicated, I’ll give you that. But you need to heal. There’s a difference between just training and an actual fight. You need a day off.” He lifts my shirt, running his fingers down my rib cage and over my bruise. “It doesn’t look as bad today, but I’m assuming it’s painful.”

“That’s an understatement.”

“We’ll see how you are tomorrow.”

“Now that I’ve passed my test, shouldn’t I be preparing to go into the arena?”

“I think you proved yesterday that you’re prepared.”

“For Wild Card nights. How long are they going to let me do that for before I need to face one of the others? Speaking of which, shouldn’t you be fighting soon? You’ve been so busy training me, you haven’t gone into the ring at all the last few weeks.”

He shrugs. “They’re paying me to train you. I’ll be back on the schedule soon.”

“How many fights do you normally do a week?”

“There’s five teams, two to three fights a night on busy nights, so one team member does one fight night per week, unless someone is sick or on holidays or whatever. The other nights are usually the gimmicky nights like Wild Card night or showcases—something to try to bring in a bigger crowd. Now that we have six on our team, we’ll only do two nights once every six weeks or so.  One of the guys might decide to trade to a different team or leave, though.”

“Why would they trade?”

“Well, with you joining the team, we’re the biggest now. And the more fights you have, the more money you make. We get twenty percent of the team takings on the nights we fight. You get thirty, though. Obviously fighting on a Friday, Saturday, or Sunday night will give you a bigger income than any of the weeknights, as we’re quieter. If one of us is offered a permanent weekend fight, or a bigger cut of the profits, we’d probably choose to jump ship.”

“So I’m technically taking someone’s spot?”

“Yeah. But the guys don’t seem too bothered by it.”

I’m less than convinced.

“I swear. They’re cool.”

“Okay.”

“Ah, crap. They know,” Brett says cryptically.

“Huh?”

Brett gestures to the end of the hallway. Nothing’s there.

“Umm—”

“Just wait.”

Cade comes gliding towards us from the entryway moments later.

“They know about last night,” he whispers.

“Here you two are.” Cade’s voice travels down the hall. “We need a meeting. Now.” She stands with her hands on her hips, waiting for us to come to her. “Both of you.”

“O-okay,” I stutter, forcing my feet to move in her direction.

Brett and I follow in silence as she takes us into a wing of the mansion I’ve never been before—her and Jonas’s quarters. Whenever we’ve had a meeting to discuss my involvement in Litmus, it’s been at the dinner table over a meal.

Today she brings me to their office.
We’re in big trouble.

“So,” she says, closing the door behind us and gesturing for us to sit.

Jonas sits behind the massive mahogany desk, his elbows resting on it, his hands steepled under his chin.

We take the two seats in front of him as Cade sits on the edge of the desk, facing us.

“Going to tell us why you two were making out in the arena last night?” she asks, cutting to the chase.

“Training technique?” I say, but my voice goes up at the end, as if I’m asking a question. Clearing my throat, I clarify, “He needed me to get angry. I was too nervous, so he kissed me to undermine me in front of the others to make me look weak, knowing full well it would anger me enough for my ability to kick in.”

Cade just smiles in return.

Wait … she’s smiling?

“How did you find out?” Brett asks.

“Please. You didn’t think we heard about it the minute we got there yesterday? If we’d been running on time like we should’ve been, we wouldn’t have missed the fight at all and would’ve seen it ourselves.” She looks over at me. “From what we hear, you did really well.” Her smile turns into a look of pride. I think it’s the first time I’ve seen that expression from her.

“It’s a brilliant marketing strategy,” Jonas says.

Brett and I glance at each other, confused. “Huh?” I ask.

“In the Litmus world, the fighters are like celebrities,” Cade begins to explain. “And while we generally like to stay scandal free, something like this would draw crowds to your fight nights. Anything to get a glimpse of the happy couple.”

“But … we’re not a couple,” I say.

She shrugs. “That’s unfortunate, it’d be so much easier if you were. But the truth of the matter is, everyone now thinks you are. We’re not saying you have to be a couple, you just need to act like it at Litmus.”

“Have to? As in you’re ordering us to do this?” I ask. This is not what we expected. In fact, we were sure the opposite would happen.

“We’re asking you nicely,” Jonas says in a less than nice tone. “But if we had to, we could order it. It’s in your contract that we handle your marketing.”

It’s at this moment that I realise I still haven’t read my contract.

Brett doesn’t seem too happy about this. I’m not thrilled about it either, but if it brings in more money, I guess it’s not a horrible idea. We basically already live in each other’s pockets—spending entire days training together. It wouldn’t be much different to what we’re doing now. Our faces must show our scepticism though.

“We’re not saying you have to be together,” Cade says. “Just be ringside for each other’s fights, hold hands when you’re in public, and mingle with the sponsors as a couple. If anyone asks about your relationship, just tell them that it’s going well and change the subject. You don’t need to be all over each other for people to believe it. You don’t see me hanging off of Jonas when we’re out and about, do you?”

“And I’m thankful for that,” I say with a smile
.
“But speaking of contracts, am I able to—”

“That reminds me,” Cade interrupts. “We have the entire team scheduled for a photo shoot tomorrow for the promotional side of things at the two nightclubs and Litmus itself. And we’re going to need a name.”

“They all suck.”

Cade laughs, and Jonas glares at me. “I know,” Cade says. “But you’re the new focus of our brand. We’re introducing you to the world, and it needs to be good. I have a list here of pre-approved names.” She hands me a sheet of paper and I begin reading.

“No to Purple Heat. It sounds like a bad superhero. Not to mention, I hate drawing attention to my stupid eye colour. No to Burn, it sounds like an STD symptom.” Sighing, I continue down the list. “No to Sun Blazer, because … no. Just no.” I shake my head.

“Nuka, just pick one,” Cade says exasperatedly.

“I guess this one’s not horrible,” I say, putting the form on the desk and pointing.

Jonas actually smiles at me for once. “Welcome to the team, Heatwave.”

***

“So … not exactly what you were expecting,” I say to Brett as we start making our way back to our rooms.

“Yeah,” he says quietly.

“What’s wrong?” I choke on the words. I don’t think I really want to know the answer.

He shakes his head. “It’s hard enough being around you as it is. Now I have to …” he sighs. “Never mind. Nothing’s wrong. If this’ll bring in more money, the sooner I’ll be able to get out of here.” He walks faster, leaving me as I continue to dawdle back to my room.

Before I get there, my sister’s voice travels after me. “Heatwave. Yo, Heatwave!” she yells.

Starting to regret that name already.

“Yes? Flower Girl?”

She screws up her face as she catches up to me. “Flower Girl? Really? That’s the best you can come up with?”

“On spur of the moment? Yes. What’s up?”

“You have the day off.”

“Yeah? So?”

“So, ever since you’ve started training, I never see you. We need to go shopping.”

“Really? We
need
to?”

“Uh-huh. Plus, you have a photo shoot tomorrow so we really must do something about that hair.”

“What’s wrong with my hair? Did Cade put you up to this?”

“We need more blonde. Maybe some highlights. Definitely need some sort of treatment conditioner,” she says, playing with the craggy strands of my hair. “And no. Mum did not put me up to this. Okay, she
may
have mentioned the hair thing, but I want to spend time with my sister. Plus, it won’t hurt to have a bit of pampering myself.”

“And what are the chances of me getting out of this?”

She quirks her eyebrow at me but doesn’t answer.

“Yup. Thought so. I’ll just go get changed.” I pause at the entrance of my room. “Brett’s not on babysitting duty, is he?”

She shakes her head. “Drake.”

“Good.” I wince the second I say it and mutter an apology to Brett who’s probably listening. Just when we thought we could make our way to having some sort of friendship, it had to get all awkward and stupid again.

“Sick of your boyfriend already?”

“Oh great, so it’s already spreading.”

“I don’t understand why you’re only pretending anyway after what I walked in on a few weeks ago.”

Trying to hide the blush working its way to my face, I avoid looking at her when I say, “It’s complicated.”

“Mmhmm,” she says, unconvinced.

Ignoring her, I make my way into my room and get dressed achingly slow. I’m beginning to understand the excitement of fighting. I’d love nothing more than to get back in that arena and kick Steve’s butt for the pain I’m in right now … but maybe when I’m in less agony.

By the time I get back out, Sasha’s waiting for me, giant sunglasses in hand. “Here,” she says, shoving them at me. “To cover your bruises.”

“Where did you even get these?” I ask as I slip them onto my face. “The rims are giant. I look like a fly.”

She shrugs. “You can bring them back into fashion.”

“Being the trendsetter that I am,” I say sarcastically.

“Just wait. Word is already spreading about your fight with Ghost. Soon everyone will want to be like you.”

“What? Bruised?”

Laughing, she shakes her head at me. “Let’s just go.”

***

Sasha informs the hair stylist what needs to be done, and while we both have tin foil wrapped in our hair, and we’re left alone, Sasha brings her chair closer to me. Drake’s outside, somewhere, probably taking advantage of us being busy and contained to one spot.

“Okay. Spill. Why’s it so complicated?” she asks.

“Huh?”

“You and Brett.”

I avoid eye contact with her as I start. “So it turns out that my friend, you know, the one I was staying with?”

She nods.

“I kinda didn’t realise it, but I’m sorta … I think I’m … We’ve always just been friends. But when Brett told me that Declan was single, not taken like I was led to believe, it kind of hit me like a ton of bricks. Bam, you’re in love with your best friend, you dumbass.”

“Oh.”

“Also, Declan’s just told me that he’s becoming a cop. Isn’t exactly a great match for the ‘new face of Deakin.’ Not to mention putting the whole place at risk of being shut down.”

She whistles. “Damn.”

“So even though I like Brett—”

“You admit it! You do like him.”

“Yes,” I admit. “But at the moment, all I can think about is Declan. And Brett knows that. He’s already told me he doesn’t want to come in second, and I don’t want to string him along. But now …”

“You’re forced to,” she says resignedly.

“Exactly.”

“Dude, that sucks.”

“Pretty much.”

When we leave the hairdresser’s a short time later, my hair’s a bright platinum blonde now instead of a golden colour. Walking down the centre strip of the shopping centre, I jump behind Sasha as if I’m using her as a human shield when I see Declan coming the opposite way.

“Just my friggin’ luck,” I murmur.

“What are you … oh … is that Dec—”

“The one and only. Is he gone yet?”

“He just went into a store.”

I stand upright again and turn to face Sasha, only to be met with an overly amused expression.

“You certainly have a type,” she snickers.

“What do you mean?”

“You don’t see it?”